


Home for the Night

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: It seemed a stroke of luck when Bossuet found a new abode a mere block away from the Corinthe. Finally, a place to spend the evening that would allow for maximum merriment and minimal commute. Sure, it was a little smaller than his old place, but the lack of fire hazards, dripping roofs, and wind tunnels that howled at ungodly volumes in the middle of the night certainly made up for it. What on earth could go wrong?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cereus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereus/gifts).



> For the prompt "Shocking dirty threesome action! Respectable society would be scandalized! Let's hope the papers never get wind of this!" I did a close reading of the prompt, pulled apart some meanings... and ended up with this fic. I hope you find it to your satisfaction.
> 
> Happy April Fool's!

It seemed a stroke of luck when Bossuet found a new abode a mere block away from the Corinthe. Finally, a place to spend the evening that would allow for maximum merriment and minimal commute. Sure, it was a little smaller than his old place, but the lack of fire hazards, dripping roofs, and wind tunnels that howled at ungodly volumes in the middle of the night certainly made up for it. Plus, it meant that he and his lovers would have an easy place to escape to should the mood strike any evening, as it seemed so wont to do, without the teasing or other complications that generally came from renting a room directly above or below a favourite establishment.

Really, he couldn't think of a better arrangement.

A moving date was quickly arranged. He would be assisted by his friends during the day, and by Joly and Musichetta by night. The evening would end with a delectable feast, a toast of fine wine, and a christening of a much more intimate nature. (Joly had even made a trip to Staubs in preparation to ensure the availability of a properly impractical celebratory wardrobe.)

Of course, the day had different plans.

It was raining, which invariably meant that Joly had a cold. It also meant that half of Bossuet's personal effects were soaked in the commute between old home and new.

Worst of all, one of the final trips ended in Bossuet's carriage hitting some debris, sending countless pieces of cargo into the streets. Most of it was salvageable, but caked in layers of mud. His bedsheets, of course, were one such casualty. His clothes, strewn from a not quite properly sealed trunk, would never be quite the same either.

The christening, it seemed, would have to wait for another day.

* * *

The sheets, as it turned out, were a lost cause. Parisian mud managed to prove a very effective staining and stiffening method on what once were quite nice cotton sheets. Joly ook them to the hospital promising he had just the use for them, leaving Bossuet to hunt for something new.

Eventually, under Bahorel's advice, he ended up in a richly coloured and deeply pungent store specializing in Oriental fineries. The crimson bedsheets there were striking (Chinese silk, the shopkeeper claimed) and available for a surprisingly reasonable price. It was all too easy to take them home and spend the next few days plotting with Joly and Musichetta about how grand a night upon them would be, and how Musichetta should wear her most opulent, gypsy-like gown before laying down wantonly atop a bed of cool crimson.

In some ways, the sheets did live up to their claims. They were sleek, smooth, and cool to the touch and a quite striking contrast to Musichetta's pale skin and dark hair. The little static jolts they constantly gave, however, made it a night they'd rather not repeat any time soon.

* * *

Joly's face always flushed so beautifully once his waistcoat was off. It was a great joy of Bosuet's to remove the shirt altogether and trace that adorable redness down to his chest. He was in the midst of doing just that, kissing a line down the doctor's smooth neck with the offending garment still balled in his hands, when a knock came at the door.

Musichetta was fully dressed or near enough, and so quickly throwing on a shawl made her presentable enough to see who on earth would be calling upon them at such an hour.

It was Enjolras. The man seemed very worried indeed, and had a large disorderly stack of papers clutched to his chest. (Bossuet wasn't sure how he'd even managed to knock. Did he kick the door?)

"Friends," he said. "I am sorry to disturb you at…" Enjolras' cheeks coloured. Joly quickly threw his shirt back on. "...such a time, but there have been rumours of a raid upon the Corinthe this night and we must remove our things before the Gendarmes arrive. I'll need you to keep these here for a while—perhaps a week at most. I'll give you more information as I have it."

The papers were thrust into Musichetta's arms and a bundle of ammunitions placed at her feet, then the door slammed shut once more as Enjolras left, ostensibly to collect another round of goods to deliver to a safe house. Their night turned to one of espionage, keeping watch for any dangerous activity and finding good places to hide the papers now left in their keep.

* * *

The air was particularly muggy in the following week, making any sort of unnecessary movement seem a waste of energy. Joly had thus decided to become a de-facto roommate in hopes of shortening commutes and conserving a bit of his energy. Sharing a bed with the man was surprisingly comfortable; Joly always did have cold feet, after all.

He mainly took over the desk and sat for long hours studying anatomy textbooks and revolutionary treatises, both the ones Enjolras had brought and a few smuggled in from other sources. Bossuet didn't mind; he barely used the piece of furniture if he could avoid it. Plus, the window in front of the desk provided a much needed source of ample light, and studying with it open, as Joly preferred, meant there was at least _some_ fresh air circulating in the room.

It was a pleasant surprise indeed when Musichetta dropped by to join them with a basket full of supper in hand. Both men were easily persuaded to stop their work to join her for a delicious meal, a round of cards, and a mulled wine of a sweeter variety than the Corinthe's usual fare. The decision to move to other activities was mutual though Joly was the first brave soul to make a move by assisting Musichetta with her dress and corset and whispering sweet words into her ear.

A crash of thunder sounded and then another, giving them pause. A howling sound followed, and Joly stumbled to the floor in his haste to check on the bedroom desk, leaving Bossuet to complete the task for him. He was able to shut the window, which was indeed the source of the howling, but the damage had already been done. Papers were being strewn across the room by the storm's high winds, and what poor items remained on the desk were now quite damp from the rain. It would take some time to clean the room up and recover whatever was damaged.

Well, at least the humidity would now be significantly lower.

* * *

They didn't precisely have an anniversary to celebrate. Falling in love had been like gravity; the transition from friends to lovers seamless amongst the three companions. None of them quite remembered the dates of their first forays, only the feeling of rightness as they found comfort in each other's embrace.

But since any reason to celebrate was a good one, a unanimous decision was made to use the date of Joly's arrival in Paris as an unofficial marker. It was an easy date to document, after all, and their arrangement would have been impossible without their dear little doctor.

They'd begun brainstorming anniversary ideas months in advance: a trip to the opera, a revolutionary protest, a night locked indoors and spent all by themselves.

All this was put on hold, however, when Joly received a note a month in advance, informing him of impending visitors.

Parents, it seemed, were the one force who could stop a romantic escapade before it had even begun.

* * *

It was sad to see the apartment go, really. He'd lived in it for less than a year, and it had proven quite convenient and full of adventure.

But Joly was moving into a much nicer place and there was room to spare, especially for a handsome bald eagle and a half-gypsy princess. So really, there was no contest. Out with the old, as they say.

He just hoped that this place's new christening would be more successful than its predecessor's.


End file.
